


Prince Hamid's Three Tales

by pixieferry



Series: Prince Hamid [4]
Category: Desire & Decorum (Visual Novel)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 07:46:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17803934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixieferry/pseuds/pixieferry
Summary: Prince Hamid shares three stories/ details about himself. This is an outtake from my first Prince Hamid fic, Coffee and Decorum, expanding the wedding night scene. Yes, there's smut this time.





	Prince Hamid's Three Tales

**Author's Note:**

> This is an outtake from my Coffee & Decorum fic, detailing the wedding night. While not necessary, I do believe they should be read together. Fic is available [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17586449)

Her nerves had been strung as tight as a corset for days leading up to the wedding night. She had been told what would happen. Expect some pain, a bit of blood.

That womenfolk weren’t meant to enjoy it. 

_Just lay still, girl, let him go in and out and be done with._ These words, meant to comfort, only filled her with distaste.

And so she laid there in bed, rigid, until Hamid came and warmed her icy hands with his. _We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,_ he said gently. _I do not take what is not freely given._

\- excerpt from Coffee & Decorum

* * *

“Tell me three tales or secrets about _you_.”

“About _me?_ ” Prince Hamid's hand flew to his chest as a little laugh of disbelief rumbled out. They were sitting cross-legged on Liana’s bed. “I could tell you stories of far more interesting people and places," he said with a dismissive wave and a slightly bashful smile. "How about the story of Suleiman the Magnificent?”

“No, I want you,” she protested. She ducked her head to hide her reddening cheeks when Hamid raised his eyebrows. “I mean, I want your story,” she added hastily, looking at him through her lashes. “Please,” she begged, her voice as sweet as honey, the one she knew he couldn’t resist, batting her eyelashes for added effect.

“Very well then.” He laid his head on her lap, flashing a cheeky grin at her surprise. She made no move to push him away. “I might as well get comfortable.” He kissed her hand affectionately, and hummed while he thought. “I used to sport a beard like Konevi,” he finally said, running a finger absentmindedly on his face. “In fact, I had a beard when I first came to London.”

“You did?”

“In the Ottoman Empire, it’s the norm. In fact, scholars get into debates whether it is customary or required. I say, let it be between God and I.”

“Why did you shave it off?” Liana asked, stroking his smooth cheek, trying to imagine the look and feel of a bearded Hamid.

“Because for most of Europe, a polite gentlemen sports a clean shaven look.”

The weight of Hamid's words brought a heaviness to her heart. How much of him did he have to change to fit in? Liana squeezed his hand. “You shouldn’t have to conform to our society.”

“I don’t. My life, my choices,” he said firmly. “I believe in being respectful to other cultures, and I’m open to new experiences. It was in part a strategic decision, it made negotiations easier when the other party sees me, the person, not just a curiosity to exotify.” He grinned, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Plus it scared off the ladies here.”

He laughed as she ruffled his hair with a mock menacing scowl. "I'll have you know right now, _my_ husband, I do not like to share."

"I'm yours for the taking, no other." That gleam in his eyes was now a steady and unwavering light. He snatched her hand and placed a searing kiss on her inner wrist. It ignited something inside her, a spark that went shooting down, spreading waves hot and cold in its wake before settling somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

She wasn't sure if she liked it.

“Will you ever grow it again?” Liana asked, taking her hand back as she deliberately broke from his gaze and tried to squelch that strange sensation.

“Why?”

“I’ve never kissed a bearded man.”

He laughed. “Then I’ll be honored to be your first.”

“Your second story please.”

He twirled a lock of her hair, lost in thought before continuing. “I used to rely on an interpreter until one particular incident left a bad taste in my mouth. As you know, I am a Muslim, and have certain dietary restrictions, which can be challenging when you travel as often as I do, to places that don’t have a Muslim or Jewish community. Honestly, I have to be flexible or I won’t get to eat well, or worse, go hungry.

“But there is one thing I simply can’t bring myself to eat; pork. My interpreter assured me there was none in this dish and so I ate. I spotted an unfamiliar ingredient, I asked, ‘what is this?’ He looked at me, as pleased as Punch, and said, ‘That’s bacon, Your Highness.‘”

Liana quickly smothered the shriek escaping her mouth with her hands. “No!”

Hamid smiled though he rolled his eyes. “I can laugh about it now, but at that time, I felt physically ill, yet I did not want to embarrass the host or cause a scene so…”

“You chose to suffer in silence. How diplomatic of you.”

“There was no malicious intent on their part, so yes, I kept quiet. I have since learned to be as specific as possible to avoid such situations, and made it a point to learn as much of the language of the country I’m in.”

"How many languages do you speak?”

He scrunched his face, mentally counting before he answered, “About eight.”

_“Eight?”_

“In court, as a child, I had to learn Arabic and Persian and later, French. I also speak Turkish, Italian, some Greek and Russian, and of course, English.”

“I'm confused, which one is your mother tongue?”

He smiled and sat back up. “An excellent question. The Ottoman Turkish language itself has three forms; _Fasih, Orta_ and _Kaba Türkçe_. _Fasih_ is the graceful language of administration and literature, which has the most Persian and Arabic loanwords but nobody speaks it in their daily lives.

" _Orta_ is the language of the elite, and has fewer loanwords. However," he stressed, "it is not the language of _the people_. The most widely used language is the humble  _Kaba Türkçe_ , which has little to no foreign influences. It is the language spoken by the early Ottomans.”

Liana nodded, awestruck and reeling as the knowledge sunk in. He spoke eight languages, meanwhile she was struggling to find a suitable response with the only one she knew. "You have a gifted tongue, my Prince."

“In more ways than one, I hope,” he added slyly.

“What do you mean by that?”

Hamid chuckled. “That’s for you to find out.” He looked her up and down, a hint of a smirk on his face. The heat of his gaze caused a rosy hue to bloom on her cheeks.

Liana sucked in a breath and looked away again, eyes focused on her hands fidgeting with the hem of her night gown. “That’s two, one more please? A secret perhaps? Something…” she bit her lip, cursing the moths dancing around that ember kindling in her core, “...intimate.”

The air seemed to chill as a dark cloud came upon on his face. Liana couldn’t remember when she had last seen him look so troubled. Hamid sighed, and rubbed the nape of his neck self-consciously. “I suppose you will find out eventually, I might as well give you some warning,” he said reluctantly.

_Warning?_

“I am, how do you say,” Hamid flushed, now avoiding her gaze, his tone hesitant. “Circumcised.” She blinked as he rambled, “The number of times I’ve caught an Englishman gawking, and waggling their ungroomed, uncut one eyed snake in my-”

“What’s circumcised?” she blurted.

Hamid drew in a sharp breath, his face turning a redder shade as he muttered a string of foreign words so rapidly before he abruptly stopped. He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, she noted. “It’s getting late, I’ll retire to my chamber,” he said, politely deflecting her question. He stood up, his posture stiff, and bowed. “I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, _aşkım_.”

_My love._

“Wait,” she said, distressed at his discomfort, not wanting him to leave in such a state. She quickly got to her feet. His hand was at the door handle as he turned around slowly, a wary expression on his face. Liana licked her lips nervously as her mind scrambled for words. “Would you kiss me goodnight?”

The slow smile spreading on Hamid’s face warmed her, like watching a sunrise, she wanted to stay in his glow forever. He made his way back to her, his eyes locked onto hers as he took her hand and pulled her close. “If that is your desire,” he said as his other hand pressed against her lower back, sparking tingles inside her. Every inch of her body was now enveloped in his. She was close enough for her to breathe in his scent. He smelled like a bright summer’s day; fresh, warm and woodsy, with a hint of floral.

“Just a kiss,” he murmured, their lips merely an inch apart. She couldn’t tear herself away from his gaze anymore. Those blue eyes were like a night sky full of stars; dark and with promise.

His hand left hers, going higher, as soft as a whisper, leaving a trail of goose-flesh. It claimed a spot at her cheek, her breath quickened as his thumb stroked her lips. She felt a chill run down her spine and shivered, painfully aware of the heat of his body through the thin fabric of their nightwear.  Could he feel her heart thumping hard against his broad chest? 

Hamid tilted her head gently, his lips dipped and swooped on a spot just below her ear instead her waiting lips. She let out a strangled cry, shocked by the pleasurable sensation of his burning mouth gently nibbling on her cool, sensitive skin. It snaked down to her belly, no, _lower_ , teasing out that strange feeling again. A pooling of heat, its fiery tendrils were reaching out and urging her to embrace it, embrace _him_. It was an aching unlike any other. A want, a need, a-

A desire.

She found herself pressing harder against him, craving for more as her arms circled around his waist. How would it feel, his bare skin against hers? Or his mouth for that matter, should it wander to places she had never been kissed? Her heart raced at the thought but instead, without any warning, he pulled away completely. The warmth of his body gone, leaving her cold and trembling, sputtering with indignation as he placed a distance between them.

Hamid smiled innocently at her. “Just a kiss,” he repeated, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Good night, again, _aşkım_.”

_How dare he-_

Liana crashed her lips onto his, flinging her arms around his neck, throwing all her reservations aside. He kissed her back slowly, tenderly, savoring the moment, just before he deepened it. She sighed with happiness when his tongue slid on her lips.

How could she have had any doubts? How could she have forgotten the pleasure she derived from his touch from all those stolen moments together? The longing to go further?

If copulation was truly that shameful and horrible, then why did she feel _so good_ _now?_

She pulled back slowly, struggling to catch her breath. Her heart in her throat begged for her to say two words, “Stay. Please.”

A tiny smile tugged at his lips. “Are you sure?” he asked, though the hope and longing was clearly written in his eyes.

She met his gaze squarely as she pulled Hamid back to her lips, and to bed, “Yes.”

Impatient and giddy, they undressed each other in a mad fumble towards ecstasy. Her eyes unabashedly enjoying his nakedness though she herself fought the urge to cover her own. He was beautiful, and in his eyes, she was even more so as they explored each other with their hands and mouths.

Her heart sang as he touched her, playing her like a love song, filling her with a sweet desire. His tongue, that filled her ears with the sweetest poetry, was now composing a rhapsody between her thighs. His strong arms grounding her as her body quaked and shaked.

He was the sun; his touch like flames licking upon her flesh. He asked permission to enter her, which she gave freely, happily. She basked in his warm glow, blooming like a flower as he let her set the pace.

Go slow. No. Go fast. Faster. _Harder_.

He set her on fire; the heat intensifying and spreading inside out with every thrust. The pain; fleeting and forgotten, as she writhed under him. Clinging and pulling him deeper, drowning in her own crescendo, entering a rapturous state. She saw the stars and the heavens; calling his name and God’s as they came together.

_Seni seviyorum. Aşkım, hayatım._

_I love you. My love, my life._

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/ Inspiration for each tale for you trivia loving people
> 
> The beard - [Regency History - The Persian Ambassadors Visit To London](https://www.regencyhistory.net/2017/12/the-persian-ambassadors-visit-to-london.html)  
> The bacon - Story of my life. It happened in Japan. They honestly didn't make the connection that bacon is pork,  
> Circumcision was not routine in Britain until the late 19th century. (TMI) Muslim men are circumcised and encouraged to groom down there.  
> This is my first (pun cannot be helped) smut fic. I don’t care if this was poorly written, I achieved something new! i’m going to go vomit now.


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